


onions

by prefacing



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, more nonsense kink meme stuff, onions are terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prefacing/pseuds/prefacing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a quick fill for an snk kink meme prompt - jean finds marco crying and is determined to beat the shit out of whoever did it, but it turns out it was onions all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	onions

**Author's Note:**

> pro tip: don't ever read your writing from a year ago because everything will sound awful.

When Shadis blows the whistle signaling the end of training, Jean wants to fucking die. Or maybe dig a large hole in the sun-baked earth, crawl in, and never come out ever again. But he knows Eren would never let him live it down if he heard - _wimping out again, Jean?_ \- and both Connie and Sasha are not only upright but animatedly – how?? - taking bets on when Franz is finally going to pop the question to Hannah. Since there's no way Jean's letting _those_ two idiots show him up, he's left to grouse angrily to himself and head for the showers.

(Seriously though, where the fuck does all that energy come from? It's the potatoes, isn't it? Fucking potatoes.)

Jean’s halfway to the showers when he spots of a familiar mop of black hair out on the steps of the mess hall. His spirits buoy at the thought of catching his favorite bunkmate a few minutes before dinner and he changes trajectory almost immediately, pace speeding up ever so slightly at the thought of Marco's impressed face as he regales the older boy with stories of how he totally kicked everyone's ass during maneuver gear training and there's no way he's not making Military Police if he keeps this up, isn't that right Marco.

Except when he gets closer he hears a sound suspiciously similar to a sniffle (the hell, it's too damn early in the season for allergies), and his narrowed eyes zero in on Marco swiping the heel of his hand across his eyes in an effort to wipe away—

—tears?

What. The fuck.

White noise fills his ears and the surrounding trees, the barracks, the whole damn world drops away until it’s only him, Marco, and the residual evidence of some shitstain who'd dared fuck with his best friend. Some shitstain he's positive he can guess the identity of, because there's really only one asshole who'd be oblivious and insensitive enough to hurt _Marco_ , of all people. The guy could get shoved off a cliff and be smiling and apologizing all the way down before landing in a bloody heap at the bottom.

“Marco, what the hell!”

Marco’s head jerks up in surprise, eyes widening as Jean bounds over, his usual scowl five times darker at the sight of fading tear tracks down Marco’s cheeks. The older recruit is red-faced - though from crying or embarrassment at having been caught in a moment of weakness, Jean can’t tell - and while there don’t appear to be any leftover handprints or bruises, he would rather be safe than sorry (for once) and yanks Marco’s head down until it’s only inches away from his own.

“—Jean!”

He still doesn’t see any bruising this close even as his eyes rove all over Marco’s face (though he finds a little cluster of gold flecks in Marco's left eye and wonders why he’s never noticed _that_ before). Satisfied that his friend at the very least hasn’t been physically hurt (and feeling the need to put a little distance between the two of them), he turns to questioning, pulling back his arms and folding them tightly across his chest.

“Alright, which asshole did this to you, Marco? And no lying either.”

“Jean, no one—” 

“What the hell, Jean, did you seriously make Marco cry? How is Marco still friends with you after all your shitty behavior?”

They both jump as Ymir approaches, her usual drawl full of disapproval as she levels a glare at Jean and slings one arm over Marco's shoulder in a show of freckled solidarity. Unperturbed, Jean glares right back.

“It wasn't me! I would never hurt Marco.”

Ymir doesn't look impressed. (She never does, really, but right now she looks even less impressed than usual.) “Right. Because you totally didn't elbow him in the stomach the day before yesterday when you were trying to kick Eren's face in.”

“I—that was on accident, Ymir!” Trust Ymir to counter all his (clearly excellent) points with completely unrelated drivel.

“Whatever. So why's Marco crying?”

“I'm not—”

“Because some asshole who isn't me came and hurt him, obviously! For fuck's sake, Ymir.” Marco's cut off once again as Jean explodes in Ymir's face, throwing his arms up in irritation.

At the loud proclamation, Reiner's head pops out from around the mess hall corner, blonde brows raised up to his hairline. “Someone hurt Marco?”

Jean only points an accusing finger at Marco's puffy red eyes and Reiner whistles low and deep when he catches sight of them.

“That's pretty rough. You okay there, Freckles?”

Marco only nods, taking a second to wipe the last few tears from his face. From her position next to Marco, Ymir pipes up. “Whoever did this deserves an ass-kicking, don't you think, Reiner?”

Grinding a fist into his palm, Jean scowls. “They deserve more than an ass-kicking, they deserve to be thrown into a titan-infested pit and have their intestines ripped out.”

A thousand different scenarios play out in his mind as he starts pacing back and forth, all featuring a nameless faceless attacker against poor sweet Marco. Marco, being bullied behind the mess hall. Marco, tears streaming down his face as arms and legs and fists came at him from all directions. 

Ymir turns towards him, face solemn. “You know what you have to do, Jean.”

And Jean does indeed know what he needs to do. But first, he's gotta get confirmation that the do-badder is who he thinks it is (though really, who else could it be?). Lifting his chin, Jean strides back to where Marco stands and presses one hand softly against Marco's cheek. At the gesture, Marco's eyes widen again, and he looks so vulnerable that Jean vows to himself to make whoever did it pay double. No, _quintriple_.

(Jean's pretty sure that's not a word. He's also pretty sure he doesn't give a single shit right now.)

“Marco.”

“Jean...”

His voice drops. His eyelids lower. “Tell me who did this to you, Marco.”

Marco bites his lower lip. For a moment it looks like he's about to cry again, and goddammit if that doesn't twist Jean's gut something fierce. No one makes Marco cry and gets away with it. Except for him. And even then only sometimes.

“Fine. If you really want to know, it was—”

— _Eren “my middle name is asshole” Jaeger_ —

“—the onions I was cutting up for dinner.”

Jean eyes pop open in surprise, the answer so unexpected it might as well have dropped from the sky like a rogue titan ready to bite him clean in half. 

“ _What?_ ”

Two voices in unison, and the vulnerable expression on Marco's face quickly gives way to unconstrained amusement.

“I was cutting onions for dinner and I guess they must've been stronger than I expected.”

There's a sudden sense of loss in Jean's chest, as though the wind's been knocked out of him. _Onions_. Here he'd been, ranting and raving like a lunatic and determined to hunt down and kill the traitor who'd made Marco Bott cry, and all along it'd been nothing but a couple of dumb vegetables. Even as he stands gaping at Marco, Ymir bursts into raucous laughter, doubling over as she clutches her stomach and takes in wheezing breaths.

Marco, the traitorous little shit, at least has the decency to look ashamed at leading them along for so long, though Jean doesn't like the way his lips are pressed tightly together, as though he's trying his hardest not to laugh hysterically at Jean's behavior of five minutes prior. 

“Eren had nothing to do with it, Jean, though he did bring over our vegetable supply earlier—”

Jean zeroes in on the name, and suddenly all is well with the world again.

“Did you just say Eren?”

Marco seems a little confused at Jean's sudden interest, brow furrowing and mouth opening as if to speak.

“Yeah, Instructor Shadis had him—”

“Aha!” Jean thinks nothing tastes quite as sweet as the taste of victory and the chance to pound Eren's face into his stomach, this time with a legitimate reason. “So it _is_ that asshole's fault!”

“What? Jean, no, that's not—” There's alarm in Marco's voice, a thin edge of panic, but Jean hears none of it, swept up in his grand plans of revenge as he is.

“He brought you the onions, therefore it's his fault you're crying. Don't even try and tell me that isn't perfect logic, Marco.”

“Jean—”

“He's finishing up weapons training right now, right? C'mon Ymir, no way you wanna miss me kicking Eren's ugly-as-shit face in.”

“ _Jean_!”


End file.
